


Now I Fly

by Batsutousai



Series: Make a Brand New End [8]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Claustrophobia, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Families, Other, POV Original Character, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Slavery, Time Travel Fix-It, non-binary original character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25086361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: Feemor made a promise to Anakin, that he would do what he could to free his mother. With the money and a place to live sorted, all he needs now is someone to go and get her. And there are few beings he'd trust more with such a task, than his former padawan, Ace.
Relationships: Feemor (Star Wars) & Original Jedi Character(s), Original Jedi Character(s) & Original Jedi Character(s), Original Jedi Character(s)/Original Jedi Character(s)
Series: Make a Brand New End [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701196
Comments: 88
Kudos: 827





	1. A Scream Inside We All Try to Hide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lurking_Ghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurking_Ghost/gifts).



> Lurking_Ghost, on AO3, requested a show of Ace being nicer than we've seen them in the series so far. Hopefully this suits.
> 
> This fic was initially gonna go in an entirely different direction, but I was struggling a bit with the mission, so when the idea I've ended up using hit me, I had to change out the whole opening to make it work. Whoops? ^^;
> 
> Series timeline-wise, this fic takes place during _Start of Something Good_. When, during Mace's comm call to Feemor at the end of chapter two, Wangui mentions Feemor not sleeping since Ace and Vega left on a mission? This is that mission.
> 
> I know I said I'm trying to avoid ships in this series, and that's still true, but just an FYI that Ace stared at me until I gave them a girlfriend. (She actually fits nicely into a potential future sideplot, so she may show up again.)

Ace may have been willing to let their grandmaster train them in lightsabre combat, but they could only stand being around Jinn for so long, before the old urge to break his face, like he'd broken Feemor, got too strong and they had to excuse themself. Jinn, at least, seemed to understand, and had never once attempted to convince them to stay longer than they were comfortable with. (It wasn't as though Vega or Wangui followed them, so Jinn still had students to work with.)

It was just such a time—Ace working out lingering anger and frustration through moving meditation atop one of the cliffs in the Room of a Thousand Fountains—when Feemor came to find them.

He didn't interrupt—he never interrupted Ace during their meditation, moving or still, having once teased that he couldn't imagine getting in the way of a minor miracle—but settled nearby, his familiar presence a balm to the frayed edges of Ace's temper.

When they powered their lightsabre down and turned to look, they found their former master sitting on the bank of the stream atop the cliffs, boots off next to him and leggings rolled up so he could leave his feet in the water. "Some aquatic padawan is probably down in the pool, choking on the taste of your Senate feet," Ace teased as they stepped over to sit next to Feemor.

Feemor snorted and cast them an amused glance. "Better my 'Senate feet' than your workout sweat," he returned.

Ace made a show of rolling their eyes, which earnt them a raised eyebrow from Feemor, but their former master had given up on trying to rid them of that bad habit well before their knighting. (Ace held to it that Feemor wouldn't be half the diplomat he was if he hadn't been forced to get used to apologising for Ace's bad manners.)

Rather than further the teasing, Ace leant over and rested their head on Feemor's shoulder, closing their eyes when Feemor—possibly automatically—started carding his fingers through their hair, letting the familiar offer of comfort lull them into a light trance.

With their own emotions already dealt with, Ace turned their focus, instead, to Feemor's. The deep well of affection Feemor had always held for them was the most obvious, of course, not even slightly tainted by Ace abandoning him in the future— _no, don't think about that, you'll only upset yourself, and then he'll start worrying again_. There was amusement, too, from their little bit of teasing, and probably from Ace letting themself be lulled into a trance so soon after meditating.

Underneath all the warmth, however, were fractures of stress and grief and a fear that was so deeply entrenched in Feemor's self, Ace was afraid that no amount of therapy would work it loose. The whole mess of darker emotions still brought to mind the state of their former master after Jinn's repudiation, and even knowing it wasn't their grandmaster's fault, that the source of this grief and fear was the fault of some yet unknown sith, the correlation _still_ made Ace want to rebreak his nose.

"Calm, little pilot," Feemor murmured, blunted nails scratching pleasantly over the curve of Ace's skull.

Ace accepted the returned anger, reminded themself it wasn't helpful—and aimed at the wrong person, unfortunately—and envisioned blasting the entire lot into the Force.

"Better," Feemor murmured, approving, and Ace couldn't stop themself from warming at the praise.

(It was true, what some of the knights they'd spoken to in the months before their Trials said: You never really outgrow your master.)

Shaking away the lingering trance, Ace murmured, "You don't usually seek me out."

Uncertainty flickered along their bond and Ace frowned, even as Feemor said, "I have a...request."

Ace pulled away, sitting up straight so they could turn to face their former master, folding their legs between them. "Okay."

Feemor was rubbing the hem of his outer tunic between his fingers, a nervous tell that Ace knew their former master would be annoyed with himself for as soon as he realised he was doing it. "Yes," he said. "It's not really–" He stopped, turned a frown on his own hand, which flattened against his leg, and Ace had to bite their tongue to keep from laughing at him.

"It's not really?" they prompted when Feemor didn't immediately start talking again.

Feemor shook his head. "Right, sorry." He cleared his throat, took in a slow, careful breath, and then finally turned to look at Ace. "You know about Anakin's circumstances? Where he was before he joined us?"

Ace's jaw clenched at the reminder; yes, Wangui had told them that the boy had grown up a slave, apparently prompted to share that by Obi-Wan or Feemor, because one or both of them thought it best that all of the adults who spent any significant amount of time with Anakin needed to know what traumas laid in his past, just waiting to show themselves at the least opportune moment. "I know," they agreed tightly.

Feemor reached out and squeezed their shoulder. "His mum is still there."

"Jinn _left her_?!" Ace couldn't stop from shouting, incensed.

" _Peace_ , Padawan," Feemor said. There was no Force compulsion behind the words, but his tone was a familiar one, and Ace subsided, still displeased, but not about to jump up and race off to punch their grandmaster.

(Okay, Ace could... _maybe_ admit that they spent too much time wanting to rearrange their grandmaster's face. But, in their defence, Jinn _totally deserved it_.)

Feemor _sighed_ , like he was reading Ace's mind and disapproved. "From what I've heard—from both Qui-Gon _and_ Obi-Wan, don't make that face—Qui-Gon _did_ try to free her, but couldn't talk the Toydarian around to it." And then, perhaps having seen or sensed Ace's continued discontent, added, "Toydarians are highly resistant to mind tricks."

"Isn't he supposed to be some sort of kriffing _diplomat_?!"

"Yes," Feemor said, tone mild, "but one can only talk the greedy around so far. _Which you know_."

Ace huffed and slumped a bit; they _did_ know, had sat through plenty enough meetings and treaty signings as a padawan that they were unlikely to _ever_ forget how greedy the wealthy and powerful could be.

Feemor squeezed their shoulder again, then withdrew his hand, instead folding it together with the other in his lap. "I've been speaking with some people the last week, trying to find the funds to get Shmi—Anakin's mother—off Tatooine and set up somewhere much nicer."

"And you've managed it?" Ace asked, hopeful.

Feemor offered them a slightly crooked smile. "Yes. Queen Amidala offered up the funds, and she, Senator Antilles of Alderaan, Senator Thundersinger of the Hevvrol Sector, and Duke Dremwium of Ord Varee are all quite willing to give Shmi a home on their planets. Her choice."

Ace shook their head, just a little impressed with how connected their former master was. They doubted those were the _only_ options, just the ones Feemor believed Anakin's mother would find the most comfortable. (Or, more likely, they realised after thinking about it for a moment, those were simply the options that had some sort of integration program for refugees and recently freed slaves already in place.)

"I do, however, need someone to go free and collect Shmi," Feemor added, and then turned a pointed look on Ace.

Ace quirked a smile. "Council know I'm going?"

Feemor cleared his throat and looked a little bit uncomfortable. "Ah. No?"

"Are you _asking_ me, or _telling_ me, Master?" Ace couldn't resist teasing.

Feemor _sighed_. "How long have you been waiting to use that on me?" he asked, and while his expression was very unimpressed, amusement danced along their bond.

"Oh, probably about twenty years," Ace decided.

Feemor shook his head. "Have I mentioned, recently, how terrible an apprentice you were?" he asked.

Ace just grinned; they hadn't questioned how much Feemor adored them since their Trials. And, even then, a part of them had never truly been able to believe their master would do anything but accept them for the being they were.

Feemor cast them a smile, warm and so very fond. "Yes, very well," he said, humour colouring his voice, "I'm _telling_ you. No, I'm afraid the Council doesn't know, and I'm not certain they'd approve–"

Ace frowned. "Why not?" they interrupted. "Slavery is _abhorrent_ , Master. I know some of the Council can come off a bit...stiff? Sometimes, but–"

" _Ace_ ," Feemor said, holding up a hand, his smile gaining a resigned turn. "It's less the idea of freeing Shmi, and more the _reasons_ and the _means_."

Ah, right. It wasn't _technically_ against the rules to allow initiates and padawans to interact with their former families, but there were far more examples of jedi leaving the Order or Falling if they met their family before their Trials of Knighthood, than there were of those who had been able to balance their priorities as a member of the Order and a child/sibling. (Hells, their own lineage had a prime example of how rediscovering lost family before you were ready could send you straight into the dark side.)

Given how irregular Anakin's childhood had already been, as well as his particular strength with the Force, it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility that the Council might tamp down harder than usual on any chance that the boy might interact with the family he'd left behind. Hopefully as much out of concern for what scars slavery had left on him, as the ever-present fear of attachment.

As for the 'means'... Again, there wasn't really a _rule_ against jedi requesting funds from planetary rulers, meant for such cases as when they were unable to contact the Council to cover costs incurred on a mission, but Feemor wasn't on a mission and had ample access to members of the Council to push a request for funds at. That his last mission—as much as one could call him inviting himself along a mission—had resulted in him, Jinn, Obi-Wan, and Anakin being key figures in ending a planetary occupation and saving untold lives, made requesting funds from Amidala seem almost like a thank you bribe, which they _did_ have rules against, although those were rules that came from the Senate, rather than some law written by previous Councillors in an attempt to make them all better jedi.

Feemor patted their arm. "You let me worry about the Council," he suggested.

That was something Ace was perfectly happy to leave in their former master's hands. "Am I taking Vega?" they asked.

Feemor shrugged. "I suppose that's up to the two of you."

So, Feemor wasn't expecting it to be a _dangerous_ trip, not that Ace had really expected as much, and he also didn't have any plans in need of keeping Vega in Temple, save her and Wangui learning combat skills from Jinn. And that last was going to be very long-term; a couple of weeks away wasn't going to put his padawan that far behind. (They'd have time on a ship to practise together, anyway; Ace might not be the Ataru master Jinn was, nor did they have the not-so-dusty skills Feemor had revealed during his duel with Jinn, but they knew the katas as well as any knight. It had never been that they _couldn't_ teach their padawan Ataru, more that they simply didn't do enough fighting on the ground to see the point in teaching those skills. (On a ship, after all, the ceilings were rarely high enough for Ataru's acrobatics, which made nearly _any_ of the other forms preferable if you got boarded.)

"Okay. Tatooine, you said?"

"Mm-hm."

"Where, exactly, on that dustball am I going?"

Feemor coughed, amusement bright across their bond. "Mos Espa. Queen Amidala sent me directions from the spaceport to both the Toydarian, Watto's, shop and Shmi's home."

Ace snorted. "What, you didn't ask Anakin?"

"I think," Feemor replied, his voice gone tight, "that Anakin will be doing more than enough reliving his time in Mos Espa with Healer Jeffinez."

Ace winced. "Oh, right. That– Sorry."

Their former master sighed and reached over to pat their knee. "Anakin would likely have been able to give excellent directions," he allowed, "but the handmaiden the queen sent with Qui-Gon was trained to look for landmarks and count cross-streets in such a way to best help someone unfamiliar with the locale."

"Fancy."

Feemor sent them a look that Ace had always translated as their former master rolling his eyes, and Ace grinned at him. " _Terrible_ apprentice," Feemor informed them, and Ace just let their grin widen. Feemor shook his head. "At any rate, while I told Anakin I would see to his mother, and I fully intend to tell him once she's free, I don't wish to make his inevitable efforts to track her down any easier than they need be."

"So, don't go telling him which planet she ends up on?" Ace guessed.

" _Please_."

Ace laughed. "I promise, Master. And I'll make sure Vega knows, too, if she's interested in coming with."

"Good." Feemor nodded, then dropped back to lie in the grass. "Now, bugger off, I want to relax."

Ace choked, still more than a little startled to hear their once mild-mannered former master be so impolite. (They'd heard more k-words in the past two months, than they'd heard from Feemor in the entire twenty years previous. It had to have come from something that occurred during that future-that-wouldn't-be, but Ace didn't really want to ask, only to find out it was because of their or Wangui's deaths.) "I was here first, you know," they complained, even as they got to their feet. Because, well, they _did_ need to head out and try to tempt Vega away from Jinn so they could talk. The sooner the better, in their opinion; Anakin's mum didn't deserve to be left a slave any longer than necessary.

"And now you're leaving," Feemor agreed, eyes closed and posture relaxed.

Ace used the Force to scoop up some water and dump it on Feemor's head, but their former master just let out a pleased hum, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in that way that meant he was trying not to smile. Or smirk. "You realise you're the worst former master ever."

"Oh? Are you updating Qui-Gon to the change, or shall I do it?"

Ace grimaced. "Second worst," they corrected, and left Feemor to laugh.

On their way back to the salles, Ace pulled out their personal comm. There was a notice from their Temple account that they'd received extra funds, which looked to have been sent as soon as Feemor left the Senate, because their former master knew Ace far too well to assume they wouldn't jump at the chance to go free a slave. (Especially one who was the mother of an initiate. Double-especially when that initiate had apparently been a member of their lineage in a future-that-wouldn't-be, and looked to be attempting to attach himself to them again.) There was also a forwarded message, with directions around Mos Espa and a note that Republic credits were useless on Tatooine and whoever went to collect Shmi would need to pay with Huttese currency.

Ace snorted at that last; any jedi who had any familiarity with non-Republic worlds knew better than to carry only Republic credits. Hells, Ace kept a stash of nova crystals in their go-bag—a suggestion from Rún—just in case they had to make an emergency landing or stop for repairs to their ship somewhere that they couldn't access their Republic account. (They were fairly certain Feemor did the same thing, although, now he was essentially chained to the Senate, he probably didn't bother to carry the valuable crystals in one of his belt pouches, like he'd done when Ace was his padawan.)

Vega met them at the door to the salles, holding up her own personal comm in greeting. "Directions to a tech shop in Mos Espa?" she asked.

Ace motioned with their head that she should join them in returning to their flat. "Yeah, Feemor wants us to go, mm, pick someone up."

She blinked. "Master Feemor wants us to go," she repeated.

They nodded.

" _Just_ Master Feemor."

They nodded again.

She shook her head. "Right. I get the first shower."

Ace didn't bother arguing.

BREAK

Ace had filled Vega in after their shower, while they were changing and she was checking her go-bag.

"Of _course_ I'm coming," she'd said when they clarified that she didn't _need_ to come. Which, honestly? Ace had expected that; Vega's discomfort with enclosed spaces had never once stopped her from helping someone in need.

She looked a little less certain when they plugged the coordinates into the _Stardust_ 's nav computer and it sent back a travel time of six days, her slightly darker brown skin going ashen.

"We can make some stopovers," Ace promised immediately, pulling up a travel map. "Look, we'll be going along the Corellian Run almost the whole way. We can make a stop on Corellia, do some shopping at the port, stretch our legs. Maybe harass Tobi at the Temple. And, uh..." They considered the rest of the Run, trying to think of a reason to stop at any of the other planets along the trade route, while both R1 and Vega let out noises of amusement, because Ace had a long history of using any excuse to see their Corellian Jedi friend. "Allanteen Six!"

" _Master_ ," Vega complained, rolling her eyes. "We don't have to stop at _every_ ship yard–"

"Oh, no, we are _absolutely_ stopping there, now," Ace decided, already inputting stops at Corellia and Allanteen Six into the nav computer. "And we can stop at Christophsis. It's supposed to be a _gorgeous_ planet, crystal everything. Probably find some really nice presents for your friends."

Vega scoffed, but didn't stop them from adding the planet to the nav computer, which let out an unhappy noise at adding _yet another_ stop. (In truth, stopping at Allanteen Six was probably a good idea; Ace had been debating updating the damn computer system for _months_. Which wasn't to say they couldn't have gone to the head of the Temple's ship maintenance crew and asked for an upgrade, just, well, they'd won the _Stardust_ in a _maybe_ illegal swoop race a couple of months after they'd picked Vega as their padawan, and there were some upgrades to the ship that they _knew_ weren't Republic-approved, which meant they would need to be removed if they were spotted by someone who cared a little more about following the law than Ace did. The best way to keep anyone from feeling honour-bound to report their ship, was to just never let anyone else aboard to do maintenance. And since Ace wasn't the only ace who owned their own ship and preferred to do their own maintenance—likely for a similar reason, knowing their fellow aces—the Temple crew didn't care.)

"Could we, also, make a stop at Herdessa?" Vega asked, pointing to another planet along the route. "They make a sweet cake that Obi-Wan was teasing Master Qui-Gon for liking."

Ace made a face at the mention of their grandmaster, but obediently added it to the list of stops; this was an excuse to get Vega out of the confines of the ship, and if she wanted to use a stop to get her great-grandmaster something, it wasn't Ace's place to stop her. (Even if they really, _really_ wanted to.) "I'm not trying one," they said, because they had to say _something_.

"As sour as you are, it would probably kill you," Vega retorted.

Ace eyed her suspiciously. "You have been spending _far_ too much time with me."

She smirked, while R1 tittered in the corner, where they were running through the pre-flight checks.

"Why," Ace complained good-naturedly as they closed the nav computer's route change screen, "am I being nice enough to take you to a planet with two suns? R1, we good?" they added, glancing back at the astromech.

"Wait, Tatooine has _two_ suns?" Vega demanded, face lighting up, while R1 chirped back an affirmative. "Does that mean there's no nighttime?"

"They have a night," Ace replied as they made their way to the piloting station. "It's probably shorter than the day, but I don't know for certain. You can ask Anakin's mum, once we've freed her."

" _Lame_ ," Vega complained, drooping in her seat. "If you're going to have a spare sun, you should at least not have a night."

[Gravity doesn't work like that, Plant-ling,] R1 beeped.

Ace made a 'what they said' motion as they manoeuvred out of the Temple hanger and out into the always-busy Coruscant airspace.

"It _should_ ," Vega muttered.

"Tell it to the Force," Ace suggested, and couldn't stop a grin when Vega's response was to blow her tongue at them.

R1 tittered another laugh, but politely didn't comment.

Flying in Coruscant was comfortably familiar, and their jedi status meant it took them no time at all to get clearance to move their freighter out of atmosphere and lined up for the Corellian Run. As soon as they jumped to hyperspace, they stood and stretched. "Right. R1, you've got this?"

[If you really think I'm as useless as you are, you're welcome to find a newer model during one of our stops,] R1 replied, which was exactly the sort of response Ace would have expected of their snippy droid.

Ace flashed them a grin, then prodded their padawan with the Force. "Come on, Vega. No time like the present to make sure there's space in the hanger to spar."

Vega jerked around in her chair to stare at them, emerald green eyes gone wide. "You mean it?" she asked, hopeful. "We can really do some proper sparring?"

"Not if there's crates in the way."

Vega jumped out of her chair and raced ahead.

Ace grimaced in R1's direction. "Think I should have cleared space in the hanger before this?"

[You don't really want me to answer that,] R1 returned, somehow getting across exactly what they thought of Ace's higher processing functions through the tone of their beeps.

"Not particularly," Ace admitted, and left R1 to snicker to themself as they went to join their padawan in the hanger bay.

Part of the reason they'd entered the swoop race was because the _Wayfarer_ -class ship they'd had as a prize had the original Kuat attachment, with a hanger more than large enough for their _Whitecloak_ fighter to fit, as well as a second fighter that a passenger or mission-partner might favour. While they had told anyone who asked that the hanger fitting their fighter was the _entire_ reason they'd wanted the ship, the truth was that they'd got it for Vega, who hadn't been able to handle any of the normal jedi transport ships, all of them feeling far too confined to her. The hanger bay, though, had given her somewhere to escape to when the close hallways of the ship got to be too much for her.

Ace had never told Vega that was the reason they'd got the ship, though they wouldn't have been surprised if she'd figured it out at some point over the past five years. The only person they _had_ told was Feemor, mostly because he'd been the one Ace had gone to when they realised they couldn't possibly inflict travel on their new padawan if most ships they might travel in were going to give her a panic attack. Feemor had suggested looking into ships with large cargo holds, or an observation deck with an entire wall or ceiling made up of transparisteel. He'd admitted, upon seeing the _Stardust_ , that a ship with an attached hanger hadn't even occurred to him, and was probably a far better choice.

With only one fighter in a hanger that could hold two, there was plenty of space for them to do some sparring. Although, since they didn't _have_ a second fighter (Ace had never even _tried_ to get Vega in one), the hanger bay had sort of turned into an extended cargo hold and speeder bike maintenance bay, which meant it took them almost three hours to move various cargo crates, get the speeder bike back into working order, and shove it and the maintenance equipment for it back into the sectioned speeder bay.

By the time there was space, they were both hungry, and Vega was wilting that way she did when she needed to sleep, so Ace shooed her off to wash up and put some food together while they finished moving the last of the cargo crates, then went to clean up themself.

"We _are_ sparring tomorrow," Vega muttered to her food.

"Of course we are," Ace agreed. "And then you can spend some time on that essay you think I don't know is due before we're likely to be back."

Vega's shoulders went up around her ears. "Oh. That."

"Mm-hm."

"I...should get an extension, though, right?" she asked hopefully.

Ace raised an eyebrow at her, the same way Feemor had always done to them. "For a mission the Council didn't approve?"

"Well, yeah, but Master Feemor will convince them!"

The thing was, Ace couldn't say Feemor _wouldn't_ manage to convince the Council; they didn't know exactly how much the Council knew about the future their former master had seen, nor how much he'd have to explain to get them to believe 'this mission is important for the sake of the future'.

Still. "We have over two weeks' worth of hyperspace travel time, not counting whatever additional travel we'll need to do to get Anakin's mum to the world she chooses," they pointed out drily. "There's only so much to do on this ship; just write the essay."

She let out the long-suffering sigh all padawans seemed to master by the end of their first year of apprenticeship. " _Fine_."

"And, if you finish it in time, you can send it to Feemor or Obi-Wan and they can check it over for you," Ace added.

Vega brightened. "Did you know Obi-Wan was the top of his classes as a padawan?" she asked, before wincing. "Well, during the years he managed to actually attend classes and turn in assignments."

Ace was _not_ going to get pissed off at their grandmaster. Nope, not this time. Sometimes missions just...ran over! Everyone knew that. It was a simple fact of life for jedi. Especially jedi like Jinn, who was always in demand ~~for some reason Ace couldn't even _begin_ to comprehend~~. "You know," they said in a hopefully bland tone, "having met my uncle, I can believe that."

Vega giggled, so clearly delighted every time Ace referred to Obi-Wan as 'uncle'. (If Obi-Wan's reactions weren't so _priceless_ , Ace wouldn't find it half so enjoyable a pastime. Now, if only they could convince Wangui to do it, too, they might get Obi-Wan to start calling them his niblings. Like how he sometimes called Feemor his big brother in that shy, uncertain way that made Ace think he didn't quite believe he was an actual part of their family.

Karking _Jinn_. There was no way this wasn't his fault.)

" _Master_ ," Vega complained, "how are you _possibly_ upset with Master Qui-Gon _this_ time?"

Right. One or both of them had to be slipping on their shielding if she was reading them enough to know they were back to contemplating the pros of punching their grandmaster's face in. "Bed," they ordered, pointing to the door that led to the largest of the crew quarters. (It was meant to be the captain's quarters, if they had a proper crew, but Ace always gave it to Vega, passengers who might judge them aboard or no, because she needed the space more than they did.) "I'll clean up. And check in with R1."

Vega rolled her eyes and, unnecessarily pointedly (if you asked Ace), picked up her dishes and set them in the sink, then stalked off to the room, calling, "Good night, Idiot Master."

"Stop talking to Kei!" Ace called back, and she giggled. They rolled their eyes, then called, "Good night, Smart-Arse Padawan."

She giggled again, the door closing behind her cutting the noise off.

Amused, Ace quickly washed, dried, and re-secured the dishes—it only took one unexpected space fight to teach them to never leave loose anything that could turn into a hazard if they lost shipboard gravity—then went to check in with their droid.

R1, as expected, was perfectly capable of keeping an eye on the ship's functions for the night, and they didn't even bother checking the droid knew to sound the alarm only in Ace's quarters if something happened—not that they didn't trust Vega to be able to handle most issues, just that she was a growing girl and needed her sleep—before making their way to their own quarters to get some sleep.

It was going to be a long trip.

BREAK

Unsurprisingly, Vega opted for hitting the shops nearest the port when they got to Corellia. It wasn't that she didn't _like_ Tobi, Ace knew, just that she was somehow of the impression that she was in the way if she was there when they first met up.

Ace suspected it was because, the first time she and Tobi had met, they were in the middle of one of their...disagreements, and she didn't want to walk into another argument at Ace's side. ( _Not_ 'lover's spats', Feemor. _Force_. Given the way he'd always acted about Kei's sexual exploits, Ace had assumed their former master would want less than nothing to do with any partners Ace might end up having, but _no_.) Tobi, on the other hand, was of the opinion that Vega just wanted to give them time with each other. Which, okay, Ace could...kind of see? But, also, what was better than spending time with two of their favourite beings _simultaneously_?

When Ace gave their name at the Temple gates, they were waved in, which meant Tobi had finally had them added to the list of acceptable visitors, like she'd been promising to do for years. (That, or one of the guards on duty had recognised them.)

The Corellian Temple wasn't anywhere near as familiar as the Coruscant Temple, but Ace knew their way to the Halls of Healing, and that was usually where Tobi was, so they headed that way.

Unsurprisingly, she was there, her pretty blue eyes going wide behind the fall of her black hair at the sight of them. Then she grinned, teeth bright against the darkness of her skin, and strode over to wrap an arm around their shoulders. "Well, hello there, gorgeous," she said, and kissed them.

Ace had to take a moment to fight back the reflexive panic at _kissing in Temple_ , because the Corellian Temple was way less strict about relationships—Ace transferring to Corellia so they could get married was one of their more constant disagreements; Ace had been raised on Coruscant, and couldn't really wrap their head around the idea of marriage vows _not_ flying in the face of their knight's vows, not to mention how horrifying the idea of leaving Feemor was—then kissed her back, curling their arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

Someone whistled, loud and obnoxious, and Tobi pulled back to snarl, "I _will_ insist on a prostate exam next time you're in here," to them, which had someone else laughing.

Ace snorted and kissed her chin. "Are you on shift?" they asked, because they knew nothing less than an emergency would get Tobi out of the Halls if she was. Kisses in greeting, yes; leaving the Halls for sex or lunch with Ace and Vega, no.

Tobi eyed them for a moment, then glanced up at the chrono above the entrance to the Halls. "Oh," she said.

"No," a tall Zabrak healer called from where they were standing hunched over a computer terminal. "She's been off shift for three hours. Please remove her from the premises before we assign her a bed and a glucose drip."

"I do _not_ need a glucose drip!" Tobi snapped back.

"Mm-hm," the Zabrak replied, clearly unconvinced.

"Come on," Ace interrupted before Tobi could have a proper go at her co-worker. "Vega's probably got lost in that plant shop down by the docks again."

Tobi snorted—Ace had actually had to drag _both_ of them out, the one time they'd let them in there—but didn't fight them when they tugged her gently from the Halls. "Let me at least change, if we're going out into the city," she said when they reached the first cross-hall.

Ace glanced over at her impeccable green and brown robes, then down at the spacer clothing they usually wore when they were on a mission that was expected to land them somewhere a jedi's presence wouldn't be welcomed, and grimaced. "Okay, yeah."

She quirked a smile and led them left at the next cross-hall, rather than keeping straight. "So, where are you headed, fly-being?" she teased, casting an appreciative eye over the tight clothing.

"Mmmm, Tatooine," Ace admitted, because there wasn't really any reason to hide their destination.

She blinked. "Okay. That's...not usually Coruscant jurisdiction."

Ace snorted, because neither of their Temples were inclined to go mucking about on Hutt-controlled, non-Republic worlds. (Or, well, not on missions that were considered above-board; Ace had heard plenty of stories from Rún about missions that had seen her playing sabacc at a Hutt's table.) "Feemor wants me to rescue a slave," they explained.

"Rescue, or _rescue_?" Tobi demanded.

"Above board."

She made a face. "Your former master is way too inclined to play by the rules," she muttered.

Ace rolled their eyes. " _Some_ of us," they reminded her drily, "don't live in a building that can withstand an assault by an enemy army."

"Which is why–"

" _Tobias_ ," Ace interrupted, scowling.

She pressed her lips into a thin line and didn't speak the rest of the way to her flat.

Once they were inside and she'd retreated to her bedroom to change, however, she called, "You're more tetchy than usual."

"My arsehole of a grandmaster has nosed his broken face back into Feemor's good graces," Ace explained unhappily. "Vega and Wangui both like him."

Tobi whistled. "Wow. Coruscant's venerable Grand Master realise you've got anger issues?"

"Kark off."

She stepped into the doorway, hands on her hips and wearing _absolutely nothing_ , and Ace's mouth went dry. "Love to," she said sweetly.

"...Vega will be fine," Ace decided, and Tobi laughed as they let her grab the lapel of their jacket and drag them in close.

BREAK

Vega rolled her eyes when they found her. "Hi, Healer Wrentz," she said, before looking at Ace and tapping a finger against her collarbone.

"Vega, my darling," Tobi complained. "I'm _certain_ we've been over this."

Ace glanced down, snorted at the hickey that was—almost certainly on purpose—uncovered by their spacer's shirt. "She's only doing it to get you back for waylaying me," they pointed out.

"You said an _hour_ , Master," Vega reminded them. "It's been almost _three_."

"We...fell asleep?" Ace suggested, and Tobi ruined it by snickering. They elbowed her, while Vega rolled her eyes again. "I should have comm'd you," they admitted.

"Oh, don't worry, Master. I _knew_ where you were," she said in the _exact_ tone of voice Feemor always used on Kei.

Ace huffed. "Are you _trying_ to sound like your grandmaster?"

She flashed him an impish grin and admitted, "Maybe."

Tobi laughed and blew Vega a kiss. "You almost make me want a padawan," she said.

"You realise you can't give them back when they start to drive you mad, that way," Ace pointed out, and Vega stuck a tongue out at them.

"I said _almost_ ," Tobi pointed out.

Ace inclined their head in a 'your win' manner and looked back at their padawan. "Have you eaten?"

"I...snacked?" Vega suggested.

Ace sighed, because that could mean she'd found a patch of sunlight to sit in for twenty minutes, or it could mean she'd got something from one of the street vendors that she could eat while walking. "Right. Well, we haven't eaten, so, preferences?"

Vega glanced at Tobi, who raised her eyebrows and motioned that it was Vega's choice. She sighed and shrugged, then nodded and said, "This way."

She led them to a restaurant that looked like it couldn't decide what culture's food it wanted to specialise in, which was well-patronised, judging by the number of tables that were filled. Still, it didn't take long for a Zeltron woman to come over and take their order, promising, "Two ticks!" as she sashayed away.

"Have I mentioned," Ace said, "how much I hate Corellian time-keeping?"

Tobi snorted, while Vega said, "I don't know, Master, you seem to adapt to it pretty well any time we visit." And then she put on a sweet smile while Tobi snickered.

Ace snorted themself and tipped a hand to their padawan. "Touché."

"So," Tobi said, leaning forward against the table in just such a way to push her breasts up and draw the eye, "tell me about this slave you're off to rescue."

" _Master_ ," Vega complained.

"Feemor never said it was a secret mission!" Ace insisted, and she dropped her face into her hands and groaned. Ace very pointedly turned to Tobi. "The unwanted grandmaster managed to free her son, but not her. Feemor found someone willing to front the money to free her and a place to stay, after," they explained. It was enough information to satiate her curiosity, while respecting Anakin's privacy. Also, hiding the fact that the origin of the funds might not be from a Senate-approved source. (Not that Tobi would ever be convinced that Feemor might wilfully break the law, and Ace would _never_ understand how their former master had managed that, because they'd known their former master would happily break whatever laws he thought he could get away with, so long as it was for the sake of someone in need, pretty much since they'd become Feemor's padawan.)

"Hm. Know anything about her?" Tobi asked, head tilted curiously.

Ace frowned, thinking, but Vega agreed, "Yeah, some. An– Her son talks about her sometimes." She smiled crookedly. "Seems to think she's the actual best thing ever, but sounds like she's got a good heart and a deft hand with mechanical things."

Tobi nodded. "Good. Shouldn't be too hard for her to find well-paying work, wherever she ends up," she said, then glanced at Ace. "Force-sensitive?"

Ace shrugged, because how would _they_ know? "Her son is."

Tobi's eyebrows went up. "Kinda impressed your grandmaster had enough to pay for him," she said. "Force-sensitives are notoriously expensive."

Ace clenched their jaw against the thought of a _price tag_ on Anakin.

"Can we not talk about this?" Vega requested quietly, sounding uneasy. "He's my _friend_ ," she added when Tobi frowned, confused.

"Oh." Tobi winced. "I'm sorry, Vega." She cast a quick glance between them, then looked up at the ceiling. "Uhm, ah, I know! Tell me about this grandmaster Ace hates so much!" she decided.

Ace grimaced and muttered, "Can we _not_ ," but they didn't try to stop Vega from launching into a gushing appraisal of Jinn's combat skills.

It only took three mentions of his name before Tobi had turned raised eyebrows on them. "Ace Kudzulek," she said when Vega stopped talking long enough to take a drink, and their padawan snorted water out of her nose at the sound of their full name, "you never told me you were the grandpadawan of _Qui-Gon Jinn_."

Ace handed napkins across to Vega. " _Why_ ," they complained, "does _everyone_ seem to like him? He's a _bastard_."

"He's a _legend_ ," Tobi insisted, her eyes bright. "Word is he could walk into the Coruscant Temple's Council Chambers completely naked, and if he said the Force made him do it, they'd let him get away with it."

Vega burst out laughing, ducking her head when Ace shot her a betrayed look.

" _Thank you so very much_ for that mental image," Ace bit out, and Vega let out a sound like a dying space whale." _You_ , padawan-mine, are going to be writing an essay on why it's _rude_ to laugh at your master's pain."

Vega twisted in her seat and curled over her knees, still laughing.

"If she stops breathing, it's your fault," Ace informed Tobi.

"It's fine, I'm a healer."

Ace rolled their eyes. " _At any rate_ , I'm fairly certain Master Windu would Force-throw Jinn back down the lift before he could start making any excuses, if he tried that."

Tobi snickered.

" _Force_ , Tobi. I need some sort of industrial-strength hull scourer, now. _For my brain_. Where's our food?" they added as Tobi's snickers got louder. "I need to choke on my bantha burger and put myself out of my misery."

Tobi leant over and ducked her face into the crook of their neck, muffling giggles against Ace's skin, and Ace rolled their eyes, but wrapped an arm around her in return.

"I'm telling Master Feemor," Vega said once she managed to stop giggling, which then set her off again.

"I'm sure he'll be _delighted_ ," Ace retorted, and Vega giggled a little harder, her face starting to tint a little green. "Are you breathing at _all_?"

Vega shook her head, but she was grinning, so Ace was fairly certain she wasn't in danger of passing out. Yet.

"Just checking."

The arrival of their food finally calmed the two ladies down, and Ace politely didn't mime choking on their food to get them going again.

After they'd finished and Tobi had paid—she claimed it was a rule that, on Corellia, the Corellian Jedi paid, and Ace neither knew nor cared enough to find out otherwise—they stepped outside and Tobi said, "I'm coming with you."

"The _hells_ you are," Ace snapped back, feeling seven kinds of fool for not knowing she'd try to find a way to tag along and nip that idea in the bud much sooner.

Tobi turned a flat look on them. "You're going to rescue a _slave_ , Ace. You have no idea the sort of state she's in, and you have _barely_ enough healing ability to keep yourself from dying from a potentially fatal shot."

Ace leant in close and hissed, "This mission _isn't sanctioned_. Never mind the bantha shit we'd both end up in for you tagging along on a Coruscant mission–"

" _First off_ ," Tobi interrupted, raising a finger between their noses, "it not having the approval of the Coruscant Council makes tagging along _way_ more okay with the Corellian Council."

"Of karking _course_ it would," Ace muttered. Karking bad blood between their Temples.

She raised a second finger between their noses. " _Second_ , you're _freeing a slave_! We're _jedi_! That's as 'for the good of sentients' as it gets!"

"This _isn't your jurisdiction_ ," Ace reminded her, because Corellian Jedi never left Corellian space, unless they had no other choice—like when Tobi had been snatched by pirates—or Coruscant somehow convinced them they needed someone from their Temple on a mission.

"Tatooine isn't _your_ jurisdiction, either!"

" _No_ , Tobi."

"If you think, for _one minute_ –" Tobi started, a fire lighting in her eyes.

"What I think, _Healer Wrentz_ ," Ace interrupted coolly, and she flinched back at the distance they'd shoved between them by using her title and last name, "is that you're forgetting where your duty lies."

Tobi stared at them for a moment, hurt writ clear across her face, before she spun on the spot and hurried away, heading back to the Temple.

Ace closed their eyes and dropped back against the wall of the restaurant. " _Kriff_."

Vega touched their arm, featherlight, and asked, "Master? Are you okay?"

"No," Ace admitted.

Vega hesitated for a beat, then asked, "Do you want to go after her? Or I can, if–"

"No, Padawan." Ace breathed in, wrapped up the sting of hurt in the breath, and breathed it out. "It's fine. She'll realise I'm right when she calms down." They hoped.

Judging by the look Vega sent them, she wasn't so certain about that.

Ace reached out and tugged lightly on her braid, then pushed off from the wall. "Are you good to go?"

She chewed on her lower lip, glanced the way Tobi had gone, then looked back at Ace and nodded. "Yeah. If you are?"

Ace tried on a smile, suspected it wasn't very convincing, but left it on anyway. "Not the first time I've left her in a snit," they pointed out.

"I guess," Vega agreed, and fell into step with them on the way back to the ship port. "But, Master, she _could_ be a help."

Ace shook their head. "This is lineage business. We don't involve others in that." Just like they didn't call the healers if they could get Feemor to sleep on their own, or they suspected he hadn't taken his medication, but they knew they could get him to take it themselves. Like how Feemor and Wangui and Vega (and Obi-Wan, now) were the only beings in the Temple who knew there was a secret cargo hold in Ace's ship and how to get into it.

(Anakin wasn't lineage, but he also _was_ , and not a single member of their lineage, Ace was certain, would truly believe the boy _didn't_ belong with them, no matter who took him as their padawan in a couple years.)

"She _could_ be lineage, though. If you– I mean, I know _why_ you don't want to join Corellia, but–"

"No," Ace said with a certainty that had been renewed by the news of a future where they had abandoned their master to a lonely grief. "I'm a Coruscanti Jedi, Vega, and I will be until I die. Which means I will _always_ put duty over my heart. No matter how much it hurts." They glanced at her. "Do you understand?"

Vega visibly considered that for a long moment, before admitting, "I don't...know."

Ace nodded. "That's okay." They reached over and flicked her braid. "It's something to work towards."

"Just so long as you don't make me write any _essays_ ," she muttered, then cast them a slightly pleading look. "You won't _really_ make me write an essay about respecting you, will you?"

Ace snorted. "Force, no. You'll just go to Feemor and he'll help you insult me in it."

She giggled and ducked her head, like that would _really_ stop Ace from knowing she was laughing at them, and they rolled their eyes and gave another gentle tug on her braid.

Still. They felt...lighter. Easier, with her laughter, the easy warmth of her affection leaking through the training bond they both kept partially shut for her comfort.

Some days, Ace didn't understand why Tobi didn't want a padawan, why she didn't want anything to do with her former master. (Who, unlike Jinn, did not sound like a complete piece of shit.) As much as Ace loved Tobi, as much as they knew she loved them, it held no flame to the warmth of affection and unquestioning acceptance they'd always received through the bonds with their former master and padawan and sister-padawan.

As they stepped into the cockpit, R1 already starting the engines and beeping insults at the droid in the flight control office, Vega asked, "Are you _sure_ we have to stop at Allanteen Six?"

Ace snickered and slid into their seat. "How about I promise we'll spend less time at the ship yard, than I spent with Tobi?"

"How about I call you a liar now and we skip that part," Vega shot back, and R1 whistled an approving noise. "Am I right? Of _course_ I'm right."

" _Excuse you_."

"The only thing you love more than your not-wife, is the _Starlight_ ," Vega added, heartless.

"That–"

[Inaccurate,] R1 interrupted. [Ace also loves you and the master more than the not-wife.]

"Point to R1," Ace called.

[Two points.]

"Fair. _Two_ points to R1."

[Thank you.]

"You're welcome."

"I hate you both," Vega decided, as if Ace couldn't feel the warmth of her gratitude, so strong, no amount of shielding could have kept it coming through the bond. "R1, you're supposed to be on _my_ side."

[I'm on my own side,] R1 reminded her, and Ace snorted. [And I'm putting you above the not-wife. Therefore, I am on your side.]

"Don't logic at me."

[Logic, logic, logic–]

"Younglings," Ace interrupted in their best serious master voice, which maybe sounded a little too much like a Mace Windu impression to be convincingly serious.

Expectedly, Vega snickered, while R1 began explaining, in great detail, how much more mature they were than Ace.

Ace grinned, and found it far easier than they would have expected it to be, to leave Corellia, and Tobi, behind.


	2. Like a Bird Set Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some limited Huttese in this chapter. Translations are both hover-text and in the bottom A/N.

When they came out of hyperspace at Herdessa, Ace's personal comm chimed with a waiting message. They glanced at it, saw it was from Wangui, then got distracted when Herdessa space control contacted them to enquire about the reason for their visit and then direct them to a landing zone.

Ace waited until Vega had hurried off to find the sweet cake for Jinn—pretending not to have noticed she'd made off with the fistful of Republic credits they'd 'accidently' left out in the kitchen after their stop at Allanteen Six; they hoped she'd buy something for herself with it, but was resigned to the money being spent on their useless grandmaster—before opening the message.

Wangui looked exhausted in a way that spoke more to being heartsore than tired, and Ace was reaching for the bond between them, despite the distance, even as she said, _"Something's wrong with Master. Comm me."_

At this distance, the only thing Ace got from their bonds with Wangui and Feemor was that they were both alive and well enough off so as to not be laid up in the Halls, waiting for one bad call to result in their death. Which was both a relief, and not.

Cryptic communication was one bad habit of Yoda's that _no one_ in their line needed to be inheriting.

Ace returned to the cockpit and plugged in the comm code for Feemor and Wangui's flat. Based on the time and date on his comm, Wangui should be up and might even be in the flat. If she wasn't, she should be between classes, which meant she'd get the alert about an incoming and hurry back to answer it.

No one answered, but Ace remained in the cockpit, listening to R1 insult some other droid they'd connected with through the ship-to-ship comms—which was a normal occurrence when they were in port, and _hilarious_ to listen to, while also serving as an unusual source of information that had, more than once, helped on a mission—and was rewarded for their patience by an incoming comm from the Temple not quite ten minutes after hanging up.

"You," Ace said as soon as the comm connected and their sister-padawan's image cleared, revealing dark bruises under her eyes and a droop to her hair that made it seem almost sentient, "look like _shit_."

_"Kriff you, too,"_ Wangui shot back, and at least there was a fire in her voice, if not in her appearance. (Also, Feemor's new tendency to curse was doing _terrible_ things to Wangui's filter.)

Ace shrugged. "Yeah, sure. What the kriff is wrong with Feemor?"

Her mouth went thin and tight, stressed in a way that was uncomfortably familiar, and Ace _hated_ how easy it was to see themself at her age in that expression. Wangui was supposed to have it _easier_ than they had, was supposed to not have a master that was teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown. _"Master Windu comm'd last night,"_ she said, voice flat in a way that _was not good_. _"I don't know why. Master was fine when he shooed me to bed, but then, I don't know, he just–"_ She stopped, squeezed her eyes shut. _"I don't **know**. It was like everything was **ending**. I can't–"_

Oh, this did not sound good, and Ace was _desperately_ wishing they hadn't agreed to leave, even as the thought of leaving Shmi to her circumstances any longer than absolutely necessary made them _sick_. "Wangui, little sister, stop," they directed, using that soothing, easy tone they'd picked up from Feemor. "Close your eyes. Breathe. Find your centre."

Wangui closed her eyes and breathed. Her lips trembled, just a little, just for long enough to be noticed, before she so clearly eased, finding that calm centre that they'd all been taught to build in the crèche, to retreat to when everything got to be too much.

And then she said, _"I thought he was going to draw his lightsabre on me."_

Oh. Oh _shit_.

_'There was a war,'_ Feemor had said, and, _'Nothing about the past three years of my life has been healthy.'_

Flashbacks. Feemor was having kriffing _flashbacks_ , because he'd spent three years fighting in a kriffing _war_. And something Windu said must have triggered one.

Never before in their _life_ , had Ace wanted to punch a Council member in the face as much as they did at that moment.

_"Master Windu told me to call the healers for a sedative,"_ Wangui added.

Okay, Ace wanted to punch the Councillor a...little less. They weren't certain sedation was the _approved_ treatment for PTSD, but given how little sleep their former master got, it probably wasn't a terrible idea to use it as an excuse to make sure he was actually sleeping.

Wangui opened her eyes and peered at them. _"...you know something,"_ she decided.

"I don't–"

_"Ace, you have that **wrinkle** –"_

"Take that back!" Ace ordered, because she didn't have to put _emphasis_ on the word.

Wangui laughed, ducking her head down towards her chest, curling inward slightly.

Ace gave her a moment, let her laughter trail off into a sound that might have been a sob, then said, keeping their voice gentle, "Precious one, you don't want to know what I know."

Her head snapped up and she glared at them, liquid glinting on her eyelashes. _"Why? Because I'm too **young**?"_ she snarled, twisting pain into anger the same way Ace had always done.

That was another bad habit they wished she had never developed.

Ace opened their mouth to answer, hesitated because they weren't there to keep her from hanging up and storming off if she didn't like the answer, but she _deserved_ an answer, whether she liked it or not. And they knew just enough of what had happened to their former master—knew how badly Feemor wanted her apprenticeship to be everything Ace's hadn't been (it was one wish they'd always shared)—to know Feemor would go out of his way to keep from burdening her with everything he could. Obi-Wan and Jinn and the Council, they would bow to Feemor's judgement in this, because she was his padawan. Which left Ace to give her answers.

They swallowed against the uncertainty, the sense they were doing this wrong, then said, "His vision. It wasn't..." They shook their head. "It was bad, Wangui."

She wrapped her arms around her stomach, leaning forward a bit. _"Sorta got that when he freaked in the Halls,"_ she said flatly. _"Master Che said his neurochemistry was a complete mess, too. Almost like he'd been forgetting to take his medication for weeks. Even though I **know** he was being good about it."_ She let out a disgusted sound. _"Well, he was before he ran off to Naboo without them."_

Yeah, Che had chewed Feemor out about that while Ace had been doing their best to soothe over the jagged edges of Feemor's presence after his return from Naboo. (Well, admittedly, they been trying to soothe their own stress and fears, too; hearing Feemor had gone tearing off after Jinn after claiming to have had a vision, had immediately brought to mind the hallucinations their former master had suffered before getting dragged to the healers, and seeing the ugly scarring down Feemor's back had not been comforting. That the timing of their little breakdown had seen Feemor trapped in the Halls of Healing, at Che's mercy, had been an added benefit.)

Ace hesitated again, then wiggled their finger between themself and her holo. "In the vision, Jinn wasn't the only one. Who died."

She drew in a sharp breath, stiffening on the seat in front of the comm station. _"We both–"_

Ace gritted their teeth against the memory—Wangui didn't need to know how completely their sibling-padawan had karked up in that future-that-wasn't, and Ace really needed to _let it go_ , because thinking about it wasn't helping Feemor—and gave a too-sharp nod.

She curled forward again, drawing her knees up to hide her face behind them.

Ace gave her a moment, used the time to close their own eyes and do their best to shove unhelpful grief and self-disgust at the Force, trusting it to whisk away the worst of it; they could tackle the remains after they were back in hyperspace and could retreat to the cargo bay to run katas.

_"I don't–"_ Wangui let out a choked noise, too close to a sob, and Ace _hated_ that they were so far away while having this conversation. _"Ace, how did you **do** this? How did you keep him together?"_

Ace choked out a noise that...really wasn't a laugh and offered her a smile that felt twisted and wrong on their face. "I karked up. A lot."

Her responding smile hurt to look at.

"I—we—had help. Roimata and Kei and Rún were always around, once they realised how bad it was. You've got Uncle Obi-Wan, and Kei's still always around. And Healer Kloic, he'll help where he can, you know that. And Master Che, too."

Her smile was easing, shoulders loosening like a weight was falling off them. _"And Master Qui-Gon,"_ she added. And, when Ace wrinkled their nose in disgust, she laughed.

There came the distant sound of a door opening, then Feemor called, _"Wangui? I have a notification that Ace–"_ A moment's pause, and then, _"Wangui? Are you okay?"_

_"Yeah, Master. I'm okay. Ace was making the face for me."_

"Oh, kark you, too," Ace retorted, even as Feemor stepped into the image pickup range.

Their former master looked somehow both more rested than he had in _weeks_ , and utterly exhausted. Experience had taught Ace that meant Feemor had _actually_ let himself be dosed with a sedative. _"Ace, don't talk to your sister that way,"_ Feemor ordered, but he was smiling as he said it.

"She claims I have _wrinkles_ ," Ace complained.

Wangui's innocent little sister face was unfairly perfect. _"They **do** ,"_ she insisted.

Feemor laughed, curling an arm around her shoulders for a half-hug, which she leant into.

_Just, be there for him. Be **alive** ,_ Ace thought, and Wangui's gaze caught theirs through the holo, like she'd heard them despite the distance.

_"How are you two doing?"_ Feemor asked Ace. _"I didn't expect to hear from you until you reached Tatooine."_

Ace shrugged, casual. "We decided to make a couple of stops, breathe in some real air." Feemor snorted. "And Vega wanted to get some sort of weird cake thing for her great-grandmaster."

Feemor's brow furrowed in thought. _"Oh. Starfruit cakes?"_

Ace shrugged. "Herdessa."

Feemor nodded. _"Yes. The same company makes the spinefruit tarts."_

Ace couldn't stop their eyes from widening, because spinefruit tarts had been one of their favourite treats as a padawan. There was a bakery in the mid-level of the Temple District, on Coruscant, that made a reasonable facsimile, but they hadn't had the real thing since their knighting, because Feemor had sworn the origin was a secret. "What? Master! I've been trying to get you to tell me where you bought those from for _years_!"

Wangui laughed like a mad wookie at them, because she was the _worst sister-padawan ever_.

Feemor blinked, wearing that bemused smile of his that Ace _knew_ was complete bantha shit. _"Really? I'm sure I told you..."_

For a moment, Ace thought they were hallucinating, because they could actually _smell_ the spinefruit tarts.

And then Vega called, from the doorway of the cockpit, "Hi, Master Feemor, Wangui."

Ace twisted to see, while the other two returned the greeting, and there stood their padawan, holding a plate with two spinefruit tarts, and wearing that shy, hopeful smile that Ace knew meant she'd done something she hoped got across how much she loved someone else. "You," Ace informed her, "are my favourite being in this entire lineage."

She beamed at them and came over, handing them the plate and allowing Ace to squeeze her shoulder in thanks, before shifting to the side so she had space to join them at the comm station.

Feemor's smile, Ace saw when they turned back to the holo, was fond and knowing. _"Well executed, Vega,"_ he said.

"Oh, so you'll tell my padawan where they're from, but not me?" Ace complained, and then took a bite and just...stopped being annoyed at everything. "No, I don't even care any more, these are just _that good_."

Feemor chuckled, and Vega was a bright sparkle of delight standing next to them. _"We'll leave you to your happy place, then. Unless there was something else you two needed to discuss?"_ Feemor said.

_"No,"_ Wangui said, while Ace set the other tart to the side so they could say their goodbyes. She caught their eyes and put on a smile that was only a little crooked. _"I think we're good."_

Ace nodded and offered their own slightly crooked smile back, then glanced up at Feemor. "Soon as we're done on Tatooine, I'll comm and let you know our estimated return."

_"I know you will,"_ Feemor replied with such trusting sincerity, it nearly took Ace's breath away.

(How? How could Feemor _still trust them_? How could he just... _overlook_ what Ace had done in that future-that-wasn't?)

_"Ace,"_ Feemor said, a gentle chastisement. Like he knew _exactly_ where Ace's thoughts had just gone.

"Working on it, Master," Ace replied, and Feemor's eyes closed, grief twisting his expression for so brief a moment, it almost seemed like a shudder in the holo.

They said their goodbyes, then Ace ended the call and turned to their padawan. "Did you _really_ get cakes for Jinn?"

"Of _course_." Vega rolled her eyes, then turned to head for her usual seat while they were in flight. "When you agreed to stop, I realised I had no idea _where_ on Herdessa to get the cakes, so I comm'd Master Feemor while you got lost in the Corellian Temple. He told me they also make a tart you really like."

"You really are my favourite being in this lineage," Ace insisted, reaching for the other tart.

She flashed them one of their own slightly chaotic smiles. "There's more in the cooler."

_Best. Padawan. Ever._

BREAK

"I take it back," Vega said almost immediately after Ace had opened the hatch to let them out into the Mos Espa spaceport. "Having two suns _sucks_."

Ace coughed down a laugh, shading their eyes against the orange cast of the last of the two suns sinking below the horizon. "I _did_ warn you this planet is a dustball."

"Somehow," Vega muttered, moving with them as Ace stepped away from the ship, leaving R1 to close it up behind them, "I didn't think you meant _literally_."

Ace shot her a scowl. "How many gross misrepresentations–"

Vega's heavy stare spoke _volumes_.

Ace coughed again, smiling a bit helplessly behind the mask they were wearing to protect most of their face from the environment. It was designed for spacers stopping in a desert region, just like the clothing both Vega and themself wore, and she had her own face mask and goggles—Ace hadn't bothered with their own goggles, didn't like the limited visibility they gave them—as protection. They both also wore blasters openly—because only fools (and slaves, unfortunately, although it was generally understood they had a different sort of protection) carried no weapons on worlds like Tatooine—while their lightsabres were hidden away in specially designed inner pockets of their jackets, where they could be reached in a hurry, but would be difficult to spot unless you got in close. (If someone was close enough to spot their lightsabres, they were close enough to use a Force compulsion on. Or just stab. Not that 'just stabbing' was considered the jedi thing to do, but needs must.)

They had memorised the directions Queen Amidala had sent, and while they had directions to the slave quarters, and it looked late enough most shops would be closed, Ace didn't pretend to know what sort of being this Toydarian was, so they led the way to the shop first.

The shop was closed up for the night, a sign hanging from the door that said to come back after the second sun rose in Huttese. Under the Huttese, there were little pictures that seemed to imply the same thing. (Ace knew Anakin had needed to be taught how to read and write Basic, so they weren't particularly surprised by the pictures. Although, now they sort of wondered how much _Huttese_ the boy could read; that wasn't something the Temple would have tested for, but if signs in Mos Espa were mostly in that language, he probably had at least a basic understanding. Something to bring up if it ever sounded like Anakin was struggling with his class work?)

The slave quarter wasn't too far from the shop, and the path there was a lot more straightforward than it would have been from the spaceport, which was another reason Ace had chosen to go to the shop first.

"That one?" Vega guessed once they'd reached the slave quarter, pointing uncertainly to one of the buildings with lights on in the windows. She'd stepped close to Ace, far closer than she was usually willing, and when Ace held a hand out, she grabbed for it, holding it tight between both of hers.

She _adored_ Anakin, Ace knew, already viewed him as a sort of little brother; seeing where he'd grown up could not be easy for her.

"Yeah, I think so," Ace agreed quietly, and made themself move forward at an easy pace, giving Vega time to follow without either rushing her or causing her to lose her grip on them. (As rarely as their padawan reached out for physical comfort, Ace wasn't certain anything less than imminent danger would cause them to shake her off before she was ready.)

When they reached the crooked door of the house she'd pointed out, Ace gave Vega another moment to breathe, feeling the jagged edge of her Force presence smooth out a little bit as she gave her anxiety to the Force, before they knocked.

There was a long silence, then the door opened and a tanned woman with dark hair peeked out. She gave them a quick, uncertain up and down glance, then asked, "Ah'chu apenkee?" in a voice that was too mild to be hostile.

"Shmi Skywalker?" Ace asked.

"Tagwa," she replied, looking even more uncertain.

"Dolpee kikyuna," Ace promised, switching in Basic to add, "We're friends of Anakin."

"Ani?" she breathed, and while her suspicion didn't completely vanish, it eased. When Ace, prompted by the Force, reached into their jacket and pulled out their lightsabre to show, she relaxed completely and stepped back, holding the door open. "Come in, please," she said, politely sticking to Basic.

Ace was fluent enough in Huttese not to mind, but Vega had balked at learning the language for years, and while she'd picked some up from Ace, and had probably learnt some from Anakin, it wasn't likely she would be able to follow a conversation in the language.

"Ani, he's...he's okay?" Shmi asked, hope in her eyes, once she'd closed the door behind them.

Ace allowed a wry smile under their mask. "He's a little terror," they admitted. "He's made a couple of friends with designs on pranking certain ma–" no, Anakin was uncomfortable with that word, and Ace would be honestly surprised if the same wasn't true of his mother "–jedi teachers."

Confusion flickered across their bond with Vega, which was more open than usual, in response to her anxiety, but it was quickly followed by realisation and a sick sort of sympathy.

"It's all in good fun," Vega added quietly, when Shmi just looked worried. "We all do it, get back at the teachers who give boring assignments by causing a mess during a lecture to bring an army of mouse droids to come clean and disrupt everything, or 'accidently' dump a load of spicy seasoning over their meal in the refectory." She cast a quick glance at Ace. "Or add dye to our ma– uhm, our...guardian? Direct teacher?"

Ace shrugged and nodded; they had found ways around most uses of 'master' for Anakin, but he'd learnt enough about their culture to need less explanation than they expected Shmi would. "My shampoo, padawan," they said drily, and shot her a _look_. "Just because Kei insisted I would look good with pink hair was _not_ a reason to accept the dye."

"He was right?" Vega offered with that particular shrug of hers that was usually accompanied by the 'innocently charming' smile she'd learnt from Kei.

(Feemor's friends had been _terrible_ influences on Ace, and were being just as bad with Vega and Wangui; it was one of the dangers of Kei always being in Temple, and the master of one of Vega's crèchemates.)

Shmi let out a slightly startled laugh. "That's– I'm sorry," she offered, and Ace waved the apology away, unoffended; the pink hair incident was almost five years previous, and it _had_ been an expected part of Vega testing what she could get away with with her new master. "I'm, I'm glad. To hear he's fitting in. I was a...little worried."

"It...hasn't always been easy," Ace admitted. "I know he's been struggling with some things, but our whole lineage—family, I guess?—is helping when we can."

Shmi looked surprised. "Fam–?" And then she stopped and shook her head. "No, _goodness_ , I'm a terrible hostess. There's seats in the kitchen, through here; I'll get you both some water."

"You don't–" Ace started.

Vega tugged on the hand she was still holding, though she'd loosened her grip a bit, and was only holding on with one hand. "Anakin said that's what you do for welcome guests," she whispered. "You get them water."

Right; cultural practices were the sorts of things Ace had always kriffed up and Feemor had constantly needed to apologise for them about. "Thank you," they said, inclining their head.

Shmi smiled at them both and led the way into what was clearly a kitchen/dining room setup. A young boy sat at the table, colouring so similar to Ace, save for the eyes, they could have passed for relatives. He was watching the two newcomers with narrowed, distrustful eyes. "This is Kitster, one of Ani's friends. He's...staying with me, right now," Shmi explained as she collected glasses.

Ace took a moment to pull their mask down to hang around their neck and offered a smile. "Hello, Kitster. I'm Ace, and this is Vega," they added, motioning to where their padawan was similarly uncovering her face.

"Hi," Vega offered. "Anakin's talked about you a couple times."

The boy straightened. "You know Ani? Did he really go to become a jedi?"

"Eventually," Ace agreed with humour as they and Vega took seats at the table. "Becoming a jedi is a process. Right now, he's getting caught up with his peers on such boring subjects as galactic history and senatorial bantha poodoo."

Vega and Kitster both giggled, while Shmi smiled as she set glasses of water in front of both Ace and Vega. "And after that?" she asked quietly as she settled into her own seat.

Ace hummed around a sip of water—if it was custom to offer, it was probably custom to take a drink right away—and shrugged. "In a couple of years, a teacher will take him on for one-on-one training, like I have Vega—" they nodded towards Vega, who smiled around her own water "—and once that teacher believes he's learnt enough, which usually takes about ten years, he'll be knighted."

Kitster made a face. "But that's _forever_ ," he complained.

Ace shrugged again. "Anything that's truly worth doing, is worth putting the time and effort into achieving it. It is a hollow thing, those victories that are simply handed to you."

"I guess," Kitster agreed, though he didn't really sound convinced.

Ace just smiled and drank more water; the youngling would learn in his own time, as they all did.

Shmi cleared her throat. "Could you... I'm sorry if this is...but, well, your...family, you said?"

Kitster made a face. "I thought jedi don't have families. That's what the spacers and bounty hunters say."

"Well, they're wrong!" Vega snapped.

"Padawan," Ace murmured, twisting their hand in hers so they could give her a gentle squeeze. She slumped in her seat, looking unhappy, leaving it for Ace to explain, "Jedi don't have family in a way that the rest of the galaxy would understand; I've heard all manner of beings assume the same, including some senators, who should really know better," they added under their breath, and Vega sniffed, while Shmi covered her mouth with one hand.

"I told you," Ace continued, "that it's our custom to take students one-on-one." They motioned with their head to Vega, and the two native to Tatooine nodded. "We call it a lineage, a line of jedi knights taking on padawan learners, students, who then become a knight and take on their own padawan. If a knight trains two padawans, they'd be considered siblings; the man who trained me, Feemor, is currently training a new padawan, and I refer to her as my sister, just as she calls me her sibling."

"Oh," Shmi said softly. Then she shook her head and asked, "And...Mr Qui-Gon?"

Ace couldn't stop from grimacing, but admitted, "He's the one who taught Feemor. So he's...sort of like my grandfather?" The grandfather Ace wanted to shove off the top of the Council Tower.

A tension Ace hadn't even noticed about Shmi relaxed. "Oh, good. I was, well, when you said your, your family was watching out for him, I had wondered, because Mr Qui-Gon did promise."

"Ace...doesn't get on with Mr Qui-Gon," Vega offered hesitantly.

"Why ever not?"

Vega tugged on Ace's hand before they could offer one of their stock insults, and Ace decided it would be better to share their opinion with their water and took another drink. She sighed at them, then said, "It's...old history? Bad blood? I don't really..." She shook her head. "It's...complicated."

"Not that complicated," Ace couldn't stop themself from saying, flat and unhappy. "Jinn's second padawan went karking insane, and instead of just denouncing Xanatos, he denounced _all_ his padawans."

Vega sighed, and tiredly explained, "In jedi terms, that's sort of like, uh, a parent refusing to have any claim on their child? I guess?"

"It sounds very unkind," Shmi said politely.

"Sounds like my old man," Kitster said, bitter. "Pissed off the Hutts, abandoned Mom and me to Gardulla."

Ace blinked, then admitted, "No, sorry, your father wins the award for worst parental figure."

Vega sighed, while Kitster offered a smile that wasn't even vaguely pleasant.

"Mr Qui-Gon and Feemor, they've worked it out," Vega added. "But, I guess because of that? Mr Qui-Gon isn't allowed to take Anakin on as his student. He can still teach Anakin, just like he's teaching Wangui—Feemor's current padawan—and myself, but the only one in our line who can be Anakin's teacher is Obi-Wan."

Shmi straightened. "Oh! That's Mr Qui-Gon's apprentice, right?"

"Yeah."

She smiled. "He kept saying Obi-Wan was such a clever boy, that he'd be lost without him."

That...didn't sound like the Jinn Ace knew _at all_. Sure, he clearly _liked_ Obi-Wan, and when he did something clever, Jinn would tell him so, but Ace had never seen his bastard of a grandmaster being particularly effusive with his praise to _anyone_ in their line. (Honestly, Jinn was far more likely to point out every single flaw, than hand out a single 'well done'; it was one of the many things that made Ace want to break his face a bit. Or a lot.)

Vega's hand tightened on Ace's, and they couldn't say if it was because she was afraid they might say something, or because she'd suffered the same mental disconnect.

"Was he...knighted, you call it, then? Mr Qui-Gon implied he wouldn't be his apprentice for much longer."

"Yeah," Ace managed, their voice sounding rough to their ears. They took a quick sip of water, then repeated, "Yes. Uncle Obi-Wan was knighted the same day the Jedi Council accepted Anakin into the Order. It's considered the proper thing, sort of, to wait a year or three, before you take a padawan. So Obi-Wan hasn't _committed_ to training Anakin, but since Anakin can't become a padawan for another two years, he's got time to sort of, mmm, to find himself, I guess?

"And," Ace added, seeing the concern in Shmi's frown, "if Obi-Wan isn't certain he can train Anakin, for whatever reason, I know we can find him a suitable m–teacher."

(Honestly, Ace thought it would be _hilarious_ if Anakin ended up apprenticed to one of the Councillors, given how much time and planning he'd been putting into making their lives miserable. Which, well, Ace didn't really know the _why_ , but there was a certain amount of joy to be found in watching Even Piell stopping short because of a mysterious puddle in the middle of the hallway, and Ki-Adi-Mundi tripping over him and face-planting in what turned out to be violently orange dye. Watching Feemor laugh himself silly over the holorecording someone had taken and shared on the inter-Temple net had just made the whole thing that much better. Windu being the one to face-plant would have been _even better_ , but the Head of the Order had been gone on a mission since Feemor got off his mandated rest period.)

"That's good," Shmi decided, though she didn't sound very confident.

"Someone will be his teacher," Vega promised.

Shmi smiled at her and nodded, then looked at Ace and asked, "May I ask, why you have come? Surely, it's not just to tell me my son is to become a jedi."

Ace shook their head. "Anakin mentioned you to Feemor, that you were still here, not free. Feemor has...connections in the Republic Senate; he sent us with the money to free you, and some choices about where you might want to live. Republic planets with programs to help you get on your feet, make a new life for yourself."

Her eyes went wide. "You– You came to, to free me?"

"Yes."

She stared at them for a long moment, before turning to Kitster, who was watching on with his own wide eyes, her shoulders sinking. "No," she said. "I will live still like this. Kitster..." She turned back to Ace, her eyes pleading. "I am all he has. Take him, free him instead."

"Shmi, _no_!" Kitster yelled.

Vega tugged on Ace's shoulder, and they leant closer to her while the other two started arguing about which one deserved freedom more. "Master," she whispered, "do we have enough to free them both?"

Ace did some quick mental calculations. They couldn't say with complete certainty how much either would be worth, although he knew the price would go up as soon as he asked after them specifically. Kitster had said Gardulla—who was the Hutt in control of Tatooine, Ace knew from their research during the trip—owned him, and Hutts were notoriously difficult to bargain with.

No, it was very unlikely they had enough to buy them both, even adding in the leftover funds in Ace's Temple account, assuming they could even find some way to access it. They might be able to sell some things in the _Starlight_ —not their fighter, that was Temple property—but they couldn't–

"How many novas do you have?" they whispered to Vega, moving their mouth as little as possible.

She went very still, before breathing, "Four."

It would be tight, and Ace would have preferred to have Feemor there for the price negotiating, but they were fairly certain they could manage it.

"Right!" they said, loud and cheerful, and the two Tatooine natives shut up. "We'll just have to free both of you."

BREAK

Ace was about as far from a consular jedi as one could be, but they'd been raised by one, and some tips and tricks had stuck. Especially those ones that had helped them when they got on the bad side of another pilot or dock manager; being a jedi, especially out past the expansion region, was not a guaranteed pass for property damage.

Purchasing slaves was hardly something Ace had any real experience with, although they'd flown for a couple of raiding parties—two jedi raids, three raids set up by spacer friends who had got sick of sentient trading groups being active in or around their haunts and deciding to 'help' local law enforcement out by taking matters into their own hands; thankfully, the jedi weren't the only good souls in the galaxy, because there was only so much they could do when the Republic Senate held their leash—and they'd done enough missions in the outer rim and Hutt space to have a pretty good idea how to approach slavers without setting them enough on edge that they wouldn't give you what you wanted.

Buying Shmi actually ended up being relatively easy, as the slimy Toydarian who held her freedom had lost a lot betting against Anakin during the Boonta Eve, and he was swimming in debts.

Ace had sent Vega with Kitster to Gardulla's place while they went with Shmi, adopting the air of a harried spacer. "You, uh, Wayto?" they said when they stepped into the shop behind Shmi and spotted the Toydarian, who had just opened his mouth and was glaring at Shmi.

" _Watto_ ," the Toydarian corrected, ire redirected to the interloper.

Ace waved a hand at that. "Watto, then. Look, this one, she worked a miracle on my karking stabiliser–" the Toydarian shot Shmi a disgusted look; she'd warned he wouldn't like her doing work for free, but it was the best introduction either of them could come up with, while also explaining why she'd been late "–way better than that last koochoo I had minding the engines. I've got a run to make and no engineer; how much for her?"

The Toydarian stared at them for a long moment, then listed out a price that, even if they hadn't spoken with Shmi—and they _hated_ how slaves always seemed to know exactly how much they were worth, even if it helped in freeing them the only way that would keep the Hutts off their arse—Ace would have known was too high.

They bartered back and forth for a couple minutes, the Toydarian listing off all of Shmi's best qualities—best _slave_ qualities; Ace wanted to pull out their lightsabre and _stab_ him—while Ace shot right back with reasons Shmi might not fit in the position they needed her for.

(Okay, so they also kind of wanted to stab themself. At least, while they were tearing Shmi down, they kept from even so much as _implying_ she would be a slave on their ship; what the Toydarian heard was on him.)

In the end, Ace only spent fifteen minutes in the shop, and left with more money left than they'd expected and the remote for the bomb that kept Shmi enslaved.

"This," they said, once they were far enough from the shop that the Toydarian wasn't likely to hear about it immediately, "belongs to you." They handed over the remote.

Shmi's expression twisted with something vicious as she clicked the bomb to inactive, dropped the remote to the travel-packed sand, and crushed it under her foot.

Ace nodded, approving. "I trust you can keep the protocol droid corralled while I finish my business?" they said a little wryly; R1 had _not_ been impressed to find their space being invaded by a fussy, too-polite droid while they were moving Shmi and Kitster's things to the _Stardust_ that morning.

([ _Former slaves_ ,] they had informed Ace while Shmi had chivvied C-3PO out of the cockpit after the failure of an introduction, [I can accept; naked hunks of wiring with more manners than sense are going to get spaced.]

Ace had rolled their eyes. "No spacing the droid. Anakin made him."

[Greasy-ling and I need to discuss proper personality matrices,] R1 had retorted, and very firmly turned their optical sensor back to the 'conversation' they'd been having with another ship's astromech, and Ace had left them to it.)

Shmi rolled her eyes at them and promised, "I'll manage C-3PO, you worry about Vega."

Honestly, Ace was a little more worried about what Vega might do to Gardulla and her sycophants, than what the Hutt might do to their padawan, but they suspected Shmi wouldn't be seeing things the same way any time soon, so they inclined their head and turned their feet towards the speeder they'd rented, in case they needed to make a quick getaway from Gardulla's palace. (While they had two speeder bikes on the _Stardust_ , a proper multi-seater speeder had better cover if someone started shooting at them, and Ace wouldn't be quite as upset about abandoning it if it couldn't keep going.)

While the initial idea had been to pay for Kitster with the jedis' store of nova crystals, Shmi had suggested, instead, that Ace would have better luck winning a slave from Gardulla via betting, which was the Hutt's greatest vice. Various ideas had been tossed back and forth over the kitchen table as the night wore on, including various card games, pit fights, and a race that was due to occur on Rorak the next afternoon (late evening on Tatooine), which Gardulla had a vested interest in. Most of which were possible—Ace was more than capable at any number of games of chance, after a decade flying with spacers with all manner of flexible morals, and the Force could help them pick a winning bet for races—but none of them were a guaranteed way to win Kitster, who didn't have the skills or innate value to Gardulla that would see her putting him up for a bet.

And then Kitster had tiredly muttered, "If only jedi could hold their alcohol."

Vega, who had been drooping over the table as the hours wore on, had perked up. "Wait, explain that."

Kitster had made a face at her. "Gardulla likes watching sentients drink each other under the table. Makes her feel superior."

Shmi had let out a disgusted noise of agreement. "If she's in a good mood, she'll give the last one standing a prize. Assuming they don't ask for anything too outrageous."

Vega had turned to Ace with that _look_ in her eyes, the one they were fairly certain they'd often been wearing when Feemor had started despairing for his sanity while Ace had been his padawan.

Ace had shaken their head, then motioned a hand to her. "Try not to break anyone," they had allowed.

Vega's emerald-green eyes had glinted in the low light of the kitchen. "No promises."

Shmi had, of course, been aghast at the idea of letting a sixteen-year-old girl get into a drinking game, while Kitster had looked utterly delighted. Explaining that Vega's species wasn't affected by alcohol had soothed Shmi a little bit, but she still hadn't liked the idea of letting the girl go to Gardulla's palace alone. Not that there was much chance of talking Vega out of it, once she realised she could actually _contribute_ to the mission in a meaningful and necessary way.

(Zelosians weren't commonly known as anything other than near-human outside their own communities—even their Senate representative insisted she was near-human any time someone questioned her species' origin—and even fewer beings knew that refined sugar was their weakness, but Ace had still checked that their padawan had a dose of the neutralising drug her people had created for when they accidently ingested sugar and had to be able to function. Much like with alcohol, the Force could be used to filter the worst of the sugar's effects, but Vega was hardly a master of the technique, and it was a lot more difficult to filter whatever drug if you didn't realise you'd been dosed until after it had started to affect you.)

By the time Ace was seen into the palace's entertainment room, six rough-looking mercenary-sorts of varying genders and species were slumped over the table or backs of their chairs, while another looked rather like their bones had lost all stability and puddled to the floor—some species were more disconcerting than others when they drank themselves to oblivion—and Vega was smiling too-sharp at a Zabrak woman and a human man, the latter of whom looked rather like he was about to tap out.

Ace collected themself a drink from the bar and found a section of wall to lean against, taking their first sip as the Zabrak, surprisingly, toppled over sideways with a grunt.

Someone from the watching crowd stepped forward to check on her, while Vega raised a shot glass in tribute and knocked it back like it was her first of the morning.

Judging by the little pyramid she was building up next to her, that was a clear falsity.

The human man brought his own shot glass up to his lips, held it there for a long moment, and then tipped forward, head thumping hard against the tabletop.

Pointedly, Vega knocked back another shot glass, then turned to raise a challenging eyebrow at the presiding Hutt.

Gardulla laughed, loud and booming, and some in the audience tittered along with her. She started rumbling in Huttese, the words quickly becoming lost by the high-pitched voice of a protocol droid translating, "The Great and Majestic Gardulla says you are as impressive as you claimed. As agreed, you may take the slaves you requested."

Ace raised their eyebrows and sent a wordless question through their shuttered bond, strong enough to get through her shielding.

Vega's eyes flickered towards them, but then Kitster and a young Mon Calamari who couldn't have been more than a year older than Vega and was very, very pregnant were shoved out through a curtained opening that likely led to some sort of slave hallway. The Mon Cal girl stumbled at the force of the push, and while Kitster reached out to try to catch her, she still collapsed to her knees with a whimper.

Ace was moving, reacting to the Force's warning, before they could consider the consequences, grabbing the raised arm of a snarling Trandoshan before they could bring their whip down on the girl. "I think," they said icily, "that's no longer your job."

"Their remotes?" Vega asked, and while her voice was light, there was steel in it.

"Give them to her," Gardulla ordered via the protocol droid.

There was some shuffling behind Ace, which they didn't turn to observe, too busy smiling threats at the Trandoshan's snarling face; they didn't intend to move until they knew the two former slaves were out of range of the whip. (The fact that it was clearly pissing the Trandoshan off that they couldn't break Ace's Force-enhanced grip, just made the obstinance that much sweeter.)

"Captain," Vega said. Clarifying to their audience that Ace was the one in charge, while avoiding the use of the charged 'm' word, and also avoiding using names; their clever, clever padawan.

Ace let go of the Trandoshan, took two steps back, then turned their back on the whip-wielder, trying not to be too satisfied by the baffled shock the Trandoshan was leaking. Vega had one arm around the Mon Cal, helping her stand, while Kitster stared up at the padawan like she was some sort of crèche story heroine. Which was exactly as adorable as it sounded, and Ace _really_ wished they had a holorecorder.

Ace motioned at Kitster, who had sworn he would be able to lead them out of the palace blindfolded, in the unlikely event such was necessary. "Let's head out, then," they ordered.

Once they were all in the speeder, having made their escape from the building with no further trouble, and Ace had pulled away from the palace, Vega handed Kitster and the Mon Cal their remotes, saying, "These are yours to do what you want with them."

"Why?" the Mon Cal girl asked, while Kitster flicked the armed switch to off, then smashed the remote against the side of the speeder with a surprising amount of force for a boy so small. Not that it did much to damage the remote.

"Spanner under the seat," Ace suggested, and Kitster immediately ducked out of his safety harness to go spelunking.

"Because you needed help, and I could give it," Vega said.

The sound of Kitster's remote being destroyed by the spanner seemed somehow loud over the rush of passing air, and then he popped up and held the spanner out to the Mon Cal. "Mariika, here."

"We're really...free?" the girl asked, and she sounded _so young_.

"You're really free," Vega promised.

"We're going to our ship," Ace added, before Vega could prod them to add their two credits. "My former teacher talked to some friends of his, and they're happy to take on some former slaves, get them set up on their worlds with a job and a place to live. A support network. Mon Cala wasn't one of the worlds he reached out to, but we can ask him to speak to their senator, if you'd like to go there." Not 'return home'; Ace had no idea how long she'd been a slave, if she'd ever seen the world of her people, so they wouldn't call it home on an assumption. (Based on the dull colour of her skin and the fact that she didn't seem to be suffering particularly from the dry air, Ace assumed she had been on Tatooine or another desert planet for at least half her life, potentially had been born to the environment.)

The Mon Cal—Mariika, Kitster had called her?—took the spanner. There was a long moment of silence from the back seat—Ace assumed she was disarming the bomb—and then the sound of the spanner smashing the remote.

"Ace, they promised the first thing they'll do on the new world is remove them. The bombs," Kitster said. "Properly."

"Yes, please don't try digging them out yourself," Ace requested; they'd never seen it themself, but they'd heard horror stories of other former slaves—or even those who had been slaves at the time and found out where their bomb was—who would use their own nails or whatever sharp object was close to hand to dig out the bomb. "We will absolutely make sure they're taken out, but we don't have the resources to do it safely on the ship. I am sorry about that."

(Tobi would have come in handy, there. And a part of Ace did wish she'd come along, just a little, but they also didn't want to deal with the disapproval of _two_ Councils for taking a Corellian Jedi on an unsanctioned off-world mission for nearly two weeks. Longer, potentially, depending on where they ended up dropping the three former slaves. Doing good was, unfortunately, not a free pass to vanish for multiple weeks, especially when the trip took one outside of Republic space; the Senate tended to get weird about jedi doing things like freeing slaves on planets that didn't answer to them. Self-important monsters, the lot of them.)

At Mariika's direction, they parked the speeder outside the slave quarter, and Ace and Vega helped her move those few possessions she had a claim to and cared about back out to it, while Kitster kept watch.

Ace took the speeder back once they'd unloaded at _Stardust_ , leaving it for Vega to prepare one of the crew quarters for Mariika, and Shmi and Kitster to help the girl get comfortable.

When Ace returned to _Stardust_ , they weren't particularly surprised to see all three former slaves settled in the unused seats of the cockpit, and smiled in response to Vega's uncertain look. "Right," they said as they slipped into the pilot's seat, "let's get the kriff off this dustball."

" _Yes_ ," Kitster hissed.

Once they were in orbit, before they hit the hyperspace control—no matter which planet(s) they ended up dropping the three passengers at, the fastest route would take them past Christophsis, so they intended to aim for there for the first jump, and figure out Mariika's preference en route—Ace asked, "Did anyone want one last view of Tatooine?"

There was a long silence, the three glancing at each other, before Shmi quietly said, "I would. If that's...not a problem?"

"No problem," Ace promised, and turned the _Stardust_ until the golden-yellow planet filled the front viewscreen.

They waited until Shmi said, "Thank you," then turned back in the direction of Christophsis and engaged the hyperdrive.

And then they stood and stretched. "We've got about a day to Christophsis," they announced to the cockpit, and Vega groaned the same way she had the last time Ace told her how long it would be to travel between the two planets. "I would like to sit down and sort out everyone's preference for where we're dropping you before we get there, but that can certainly wait.

"All three of you are welcome to explore _Stardust_ as you please. I would request you not touch anything in the engine room without asking myself or R1, first, and please don't go climbing around the starfighter, because I really don't want to deal with grumpy Temple maintenance staff if the paint gets scratched. Otherwise, have at."

(R1 had already locked the controls to those systems it would be dangerous to have strangers poking around in, including the controls for the airlock, so there really wasn't much any of them could get into that Ace would prefer them not to. And, given the lives they were coming from, Ace much preferred letting them have as much freedom as possible.)

"I believe," Shmi commented as she stood, "I will get some sleep. As will Kitster."

Kitster, who was trying very hard to hide a yawn, hunched his shoulders a bit, but got up and followed Shmi from the cockpit without arguing.

"We didn't really sleep last night," Vega offered quietly, presumably in response to whatever look Mariika had sent her, and then she stood and said, "I'm also going to get some sleep, I think. Do you want to take shifts?"

Ace considered that, then shrugged. "We can, but I doubt anything will happen that R1 can't handle."

Vega sent the droid a fond look while they chirped a, [That's because you know I'm the only useful one on this bucket of bolts.]

"Oiy! Don't talk about _Stardust_ that way! You'll hurt her feelings," Ace complained.

R1's head swivelled so their optical sensor was pointing at Ace.

Ace very obviously rolled their eyes, then turned to Mariika as Vega made her escape, snickering quietly. "Mariika?"

"I–" She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Is there something to do sitting down?"

Ace nodded. "We've got a dejarik table, if you care for that game, and a number of holonovels and holodramas downloaded to the entertainment system. I'm happy to play dejarik with you, or show you how to use the entertainment system."

She hunched her shoulders a bit, looking so small. "I can't...read," she admitted quietly.

"I can help you find a holodrama to watch that sounds interesting to you," Ace offered. "And Vega or I can help you learn how to read—or, get started on that, at least—while we're travelling, if you'd like."

"It wouldn't be a, uhm, a problem? I just, I know I wasn't, that you weren't–"

"Mariika," Ace interrupted gently, stepping over to the chair she was huddled in and crouching down near enough to reach out and touch her, but carefully leaving space if she didn't want to be touched or felt the need to escape, "you are _not_ a problem. If we could have freed every single slave on Tatooine, we absolutely would have; getting you out of there was unexpected, but never unwanted."

Mariika shook her head. "I don't understand _why_ ," she whispered. "Why would you help me? Help _any_ of us?"

Ace sighed. "In truth," they admitted gently, "we only came to free Shmi, for her son, who was freed almost a month ago by my teacher's teacher. Freeing Kitster, freeing you... Both of you were unexpected, but I don't know a jedi alive that wouldn't jump at the chance to free someone from slavery."

It took a moment, but then her eyes went wide. "You're–?"

Ace smiled. "I'm afraid we were never properly introduced; I'm Jedi Knight Ace Kudzulek, and my companion is Jedi Padawan Vega Naidu. It is my honour and my pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Oh," she whispered, and then, "I am Mariika Aouli. And this," she continued, touching her rounded belly, "is–" She stopped, the dome of her head wrinkling in a manner that Ace wasn't familiar enough with Mon Calamari to translate. "Kanoa," she said, and smiled down at her belly, a warm relief spilling into the Force around her. "Little one, you'll be named Kanoa, because you will be born _free_."

"Yes," Ace agreed, and didn't care that their voice came out rough, "they will."

BREAK

It would take them almost two weeks to reach Alderaan, the planet both Shmi and Mariika had settled on after discussing the matter. During that time, Kitster would drive them all slightly mad, R1 would threaten to space C-3PO at least a dozen times, Mariika would develop an addiction to Vega's favourite holodrama, and Ace and Shmi would spend two days arguing over an upgrade to the _Stardust_ 's shield emitter, which Shmi would end up winning. All three former slaves received a crash course in reading Basic, while Vega picked up more Huttese and Ace became more comfortable speaking it.

When they landed on Alderaan, Ace and Vega stayed with the three former slaves throughout the process of getting their bombs removed, standard medical checks, and getting their citizenship sorted, acting as a familiar face when surrounded by strangers. So they were nearby when one of the medics approached Mariika and quietly spoke to her.

When Mariika turned helplessly to Ace and Vega, her eyes gone wide, Ace stepped over, dropping a supportive hand to her shoulder. "Mariika? Is everything okay?" they asked quietly.

Mariika swallowed. "She, she said Kanoa is...Force-sensitive?" she explained uncertainly. "That is...to become a jedi?"

Ace glanced at the medic, who inclined her head and agreed, "According to our tests, the child will be born with a high enough midi-chlorian count to qualify for acceptance into the Jedi Temple. However, as I'm sure you know, Master Jedi, that cannot truly be guaranteed until they are born."

Ace nodded and turned back to Mariika, crouching down next to her. "Yes," they said quietly, "Kanoa is likely to have the abilities to become a jedi. _If_ that's the future you want for them. If you want to keep them, that's absolutely a valid choice, and you shouldn't let _anyone_ convince you otherwise."

Mariika blinked at them once, twice, then took a deep breath and nodded. "Vega, she said to me, that your Force, that it led her to me."

Vega had told Ace the same, also adding that, while she liked to think she would have noticed Mariika and tried to get her out even without the Force's prodding, she had been so focussed on Kitster, she hadn't really been seeing any of the other slaves.

"That," Ace had told her, smiling, "is why we learn to listen to the Force. So we know when danger is coming, or when someone needs our help and it's within our ability to give. You listened, Padawan, and _that_ is what truly matters. Don't beat yourself up for something that didn't happen."

(If only it was as easy to follow that advice, as it was to give it; one day, Ace might forgive themself for the version of them who had abandoned Feemor.)

"The Force works in mysterious ways," Ace allowed with some little bit of humour for the oft-repeated phrase jedi everywhere used to explain away odd behaviour. "But, Mariika, just because the Force pointed Vega to you and said 'free her', doesn't mean Kanoa is destined to join the Order. Wait until they're born, give yourself time to think, to decide if you would rather their future lay _with_ you or away. And then, if that's your choice, Alderaan knows how to contact the Temple; tell your doctor and we will come to pick them up."

" _You_ will come?" Mariika asked, pointing to Ace.

Picking up younglings for the crèche wasn't Ace's job, but they could certainly argue for the privilege, since Vega was technically the one to Find them. "If we're able, yes, Vega and I will be the ones to come," they agreed.

Mariika nodded. "Good," she said. "I trust you two."

"A precious gift," Ace teased, and Mariika huffed, embarrassed, but she was smiling.

When Ace and Vega finally left, the three new Alderaanians saw them off, standing tall and smiling.

"I'm glad Master Feemor sent us," Vega admitted once they were in hyperspace, headed back to Coruscant at last.

"So am I," Ace agreed, before adding, a little sourly, "Even if we _did_ miss him joining the _kriffing Council_."

Vega laughed, loud and delighted, same as she did every time Ace grumbled about it. "At least they're waiting to hold the party until we get back?" she pointed out, because Obi-Wan had apparently decided his brother-padawan needed a party with their entire lineage, even if Feemor _insisted_ it was just a temporary placement and that really wasn't necessary.

(Ace suspected a story, based on the glint in Obi-Wan's eyes when he'd told them, and they fully intended to pull him aside at the first opportunity to get it.)

Ace rolled their eyes, then offered, "Spar?"

Vega raced them from the cockpit, delight flooding the Force around her.

Clearing out the hanger really _had_ been a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>  _Ah'chu apenkee?_ — Who are you?  
>  _Tagwa_ — Yes  
>  _Dolpee kikyuna_ — I'm a friend  
>  _koochoo_ — idiot

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hey, so, I've been getting a lot of reviews on previous fics with people misgendering Ace. Please remember that the correct pronouns are **they/them**. Original characters deserve respect, too. Thanks!


End file.
